


Blood Lenses

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Demon Deals, Demonic Possession, Despair, F/F, Hope, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Love, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the cold, dark silence, her voice is a torturous croak, like the rip of burlap breaking sacred silence. It is the damned voice of the weak and desperate. A dangerous sound. The first, tentative rumble of a cornered beast with nothing left to lose.</p><p>"Take everything. Destroy everything. Erase. Everything," she rasps. "But leave her alone."<br/>---<br/>A/N: Rape triggers are VERY sensitive. For this reason, I use them when rape is even hinted at or implied. There is no such scene in this work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Lenses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CountessMillarca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessMillarca/gifts).



> It's CountessMillarca's birthday.
> 
> I MADE YOU WORDS, YOU LOVELY, WICKED WOMAN!!! <3

* * *

Awareness flickered into being, before the creature knew its name. It was like looking through a black veil at a world too white, blurred and desecrated. It didn’t know who it was or how it had gotten there, but it did know that it had put forth an enormous amount of effort to do it. Thick syrup filled its veins, lethargy soaking its limbs, if it had any. It felt as if it had been sleeping for far too long, drugged out of existence for several spins of the world’s axis. 

It had been denied its spoils, and it was hungry, _so hungry._

As the awareness smoldered and glowed, seeking a source of nourishment, it realized what had awakened it from its hibernation. A child’s cry, weak and mewling, begging for something it could not name. Within the confines of its wretched soul, the thing writhed with glee, as infantile as the girl herself. It slithered closer, scenting the terror and misery on the air, lapping with a tongue that still did not exist on the mortal plane.

_Delicious._

* * *

She felt but never saw it. Like a tickling at the edge of the eyes. It might have drawn her face away from her knees, but she didn’t care any longer who it might be or what he might want. The result was always the same. There would always be beauty, the lie before the truth. There would always be beating. There would always be touching, unwanted and inevitable. And in the end, she would hurt all over, inside and out. There was naught left to her but emptiness, aching, and rage. 

But across the world somewhere, someone loved her, and she wasn't able to forget, nor surrender. Though she lived in a world of damp and darkness, one single bright point burned within her and refused to go out. The girl gathered the tiny spark and protected it fiercely. No matter what they did to her, no matter how badly she hurt, she would endure. 

It was what warriors did. What _she_ had done. What the girl must do.

The silent thing in the room with her circled like a vulture hiding in the night. It would not reveal itself. It would not speak nor touch her. It merely paced in ellipses about her too-large prison cell, a heavy malevolent presence making itself known. Waiting. Taunting. Luring.

Her curiosity was a dead thing. She let it wait. 

* * *

 

It was ravenous, and yet... a minuscule, undeveloped thought bade it to wait. It did, circling about the girl's head, tasting and tasting the hurt and rage of her aura. So much _agony_. So much _anger_. So much...! Just _so much._ For days, it hovered above her like a thundercloud, glutting upon her dark flavor. 

She sensed its presence. She sparked with awareness, and yet she ignored it. The thought was enough to send the thing into fits, writhing and seething in its ethereal self, twisting with impatience and irritation. This wasn't how this was supposed to work. Most mortals feared it. The fear fed it and kept it alive. Except _she_ did not fear and the thing yet lived. Questions do not always have answers. Perhaps this was why it felt the caution to wait. 

Reticence fermented the taste. Months it waited, a presence and nothing more. It remained, close to her like a vaporous blanket, while she endured all the hurts only mankind could visit upon a helpless girl child. And meanwhile, the thing waited and savored, sensing the time was not yet nigh. 

A time _would_ come. It was patient. Patience would yield delightful things. Oh, _yes,_  it would.

* * *

It never went away. It was always there with her, through her each and every torture. She didn't even have the strength to care that she had a spectator, awkward as it should have been. _Yes, watch,_ she thought dismally.  _Bear witness to my suffering._ After a while, she found comfort in that. If she died tomorrow, at least someone was left that knew she had existed, and what had happened to her. It seemed fitting, somehow. 

The further she drifted from warm, compassionate humanity, the more she embraced the nefarious wraith in the room. She _leaned_ into its presence, overcome with a madness that superseded reason. It was evil; its vileness settled upon her skin and befouled the air. But it mattered not. Her skin was already dirtied and the air already stank. They belonged together. As the thought formed, she believed it. She had faith in darkness. _She_ was wretched. _It_ was wretched. They fit. 

It was also dangerous. An idea started to form.

In the cold and silent darkness, her exhalation sounded like a laugh. The corners of her lips quirked, for the first time since her enslavement, smiling without command. 

* * *

At last, she acknowledged its existence. It was a slight expression, just a rueful curve of white teeth and a quiet bark of laughter. But it was enough. Her soul _reached_ for it, pressed upon its life force with a negative surge of emotion, dumping her problems in its wake. Like the starving beast it was, it yawned open its maw and sucked them all inside, curling with pleasure for the hunger she sated. 

She tasted of brimstone, rot and sadness.

She was addiction. 

* * *

She stood between two evils, holding the light of something precious. It was her last shred of humanity. The rest were burned up and sizzled into char. She was ready. To go left, or right, or die in between if she must. Act, or die of inaction. 

One evil locked her up. The red haired beauty with the cruel twist to her lips was the bane of her existence. She was meant to live or die by that woman's command, one crook of her pretty finger the pen of her fate. Nimosee wrapped her up in silks and jewels--like her mother had worn--and made her smile, sing, and dance. "Sing me a song, pretty lovebird," she cooed, scratching under her chin like a pet. The demonstration always came first. Then, the _other things._

Nimosee was a defined evil. A nemesis with borderlines, sketched out plans and outlines, contained in a cold iron box with curves and lyrical words She was a direction that led to eventual death or something worse. Nimosee would kill the spark she guarded. She needed that spark. The spark needed her back. If she had to eat hell and kiss devils, she would, if only for the chance to see _her_ again. 

This _other_ evil thing, though...

* * *

"I know you are there," she whispered. It was a torturous croak, like the rip of burlap breaking sacred silence. It was the damned voice of the weak and desperate. A dangerous sound. The first, tentative rumble of a cornered beast with nothing left to lose.  

"I know you are lost," it replied. Its voice was felt rather than spoken, meant only for her, as hers had been only for it.

"Can you get me out of here?" she asked, determined and alive. She radiated danger and darkness.  

The demon--for it knew its identity now, and its name--took a moment to savor the taste of her defeat. She'd not even asked how, or what the price would be. Desperation, indeed. It was a darkly beautiful thing for one soul to harbor so much resentment and so much love in one husk. She endured the worst of everything for the merest hint of a hope of the affection of another. Pathetic, but lucrative. It could feed off her damnation for years and years to come. She would do nicely. Wonderfully. "I can," it told her.

One small, imperceptible nod. Had permission ever been granted its kind before? Hardly. Giggling like a child, it surged forward like a black mist aimed to consume.

"Take everything. Destroy everything. Erase. _Everything,_ " she rasped. "But leave _her_ alone."

* * *

Her soul constricted viciously around the one thing she had left as darkness poured in. Disgusting and vile, but hot and powerful, her haunter seeped into her skin. It slid like acid through her pores, burning flesh and remaking, stealing her life, her blood, her mind. She fought it, as she knew she must, lest she perish. It would possess her, but she would, in turn, possess it back. It was probably not what the thing had in mind, but the spark in her heart belonged to a woman who had taught her to fight with everything she had. 

She would honor that memory, and fight.

In the end, they wound up two halves of one soul, sharing equally in awe and disappointment. 

She gazed out of eyes that felt unfamiliar, tinged with red like a bloody lens. Her arms and legs moved like they were only half her own, as if she were living a nightmare. She had the autonomy to decide, but her body didn't always obey her commands. Her and the thing living in her flesh clawed, bit, snarled and shredded their way out. Malformed and awkward, they escaped.

Neither of them quite remembered how. Even the memory of their grand departure hazed away like the ragged remnants of a dream.

* * *

She was no one but a ghost.

Inside her mind, the word reverberated, an echoing pulse inside of the frozen throb from the outside. _Ghost, ghost, ghost._ The more she thought it, the more she lived it. She was no one. Could be no one. Was never anyone and would never be anyone. That was her lot in life. It was a long time ago that she accepted it. There was no one who might know her, though she didn’t even know herself. It seemed several forevers ago that she had lost her name. Further still since she’d lost the only family she had ever known.

The only memories she had left, scraps of a past that she forgot more the harder she tried to remember. Stolen from her bed. Sold to the enemy. Traded for a bottle of whiskey, and then… 

…Best not think of ‘and then.’

 _Ghost, ghost, ghost,_ she chanted as she lightly toed her way around the rocks, ignoring the arctic squall upon her pale cheeks. She was free. She was danger, stalking night. She was the world's predator, top of the food chain. Untouchable. Peerless. Emotions were a thing of the past. There was only her and the other, turning over and over in a space too small for both of them.

Her mind chortled and giggled, banging around inside her skull like a tin whistle. _Demon, demon, demon,_ the thing jeered back. Fire, rage, and an ancient power that could burn the world to ash if she let it. The demon inside her was tempered only by the memory she yet held onto, love and hatred in perfect harmony.

Her body was in stasis. Balance, sloshing and tipping from side to side, a halfhearted tug of war for control. Either of them would rather be steering, but neither was willing to expend the effort. Two hands on the wheel, one from each of them, navigating towards the heart. Outwardly, she let it believe she was an idiot, for it believed it could take her over completely at any moment. When she brought them to where it wanted to be, it would try to break her, break free, and loose its wrath upon the earth.

Inwardly, she planned, storing energy and willpower for the moment she would need it. She would not be strong enough alone, but she could survive. If she could direct them both to _her_ , then she could help. No matter how powerful the demon was, it could not withstand a war from within and without. It could be defeated. It could be destroyed.

And she would, at last, be free.  

**Author's Note:**

> I've been REALLY struggling to write. But I needed to do something, and it's CountessMillarca's birthday, and everything was just cooking up a reason to suffer through it and manage to make some words. So here you go. My first posted original. Rate and review, if you're so inclined. 
> 
> Yay. I made words.
> 
> And now my poor wrists are on fire. XD


End file.
